Time's Ticking
by iOnlyWatchTheStars
Summary: How much time do you have left until love is lost and fails to exist, and you're left counting the minutes alone forever?
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Time's Ticking

**Summary: **How much time do you have left until love is lost and fails to exist, and you're left counting the minutes alone forever?

**Pairing: **Brittany/Santana

**Rating: **T/M

**Words: **3k

* * *

I: Prologue

"_Hey, I've been waiting for an hour already, where the hell are you?"_

You roll your eyes and fix the strap of your bag as it slowly slides down your arm. You can't really be bothered talking to her right now in the middle of a New York crowd, and you'd really hang up if she didn't make this rule about the _never hang up and always answer the phone _whenever either of you calls. You huff and glance up, glad to see the sidewalk light turn red. At least you don't have to worry about someone bumping into you.

"Santana, I told you I'd be late today because I had an important meeting with my boss."

Almost immediately, you can see her rolling her eyes and pouting that pout with her red plump lips.

"_Yeah well, you're not keeping your end of the deal."_

"Seriously? I thought that _part of the deal_ also consists that we can be excused if there is an important matter to attend to, and this, _sweetie_ is a very big thing for me." You groan when the light turns green and you start to walk fast again, catching up to the timer ticking on the post.

"_Whatever, what was it for anyway?"_

You raise an eyebrow up, wondering if she's actually interested about something other than your lips, your moans, your body and your—well you know, your _downstairs_. "What was what?" you ask, pushing her buttons.

There's shuffling on the other side before you hear her reply. _"Nothing, just hurry up." _She mutters on the phone, making you sigh in disappointment. For once you thought she actually cares about something personal regarding you.

"Sorry princess but you have to wait." You say, concentrating on your stride because you're afraid you might trip. This is what Santana's husky and sexy voice does to you. "I'm just in 50 street—"

"_What?!" _She screams, causing you to jolt in place and stop for a moment, bringing the phone away from your ear as you frown.

"What's what?" You ask in a monotone voice, continuing your walk.

"_That's like 30 minutes away, are you kidding me?"_ she whines, and you unconsciously smile at the thought of her kicking her feet away like a child. _"What am I going to do for 30 long minutes? That's like 1800 seconds too much for me Britt."_ That's another thing you can't help but love about this girl. She's such a nerd sometimes. And even though she hates showing it, she expresses it like 24/7.

"I can do the math." You joke, not annoyed by the woman anymore because of her cuteness. "Then count the seconds, and before you know it, I'm there."

You wanted to say something cheesy, but you know she'll only ignore you and change the subject.

"_Okay, what if I count too fast and you're still not here?"_

You smirk.

No one ever said you couldn't tease her.

"Start before me then." You husk, chuckling when you hear her gasp. She can be so obvious at times. "Bye Santana." You end before she can say her reply, pocketing your phone as you smile up at the street sign.

_20__th__ street._

Also, no one ever said you can give a small lie just to see her shocked face when you come in her apartment 30 minutes earlier than schedule. You giggle and slide Santana's spare card that she gave you on your 20th day together (okay so maybe you're counting all the nights you spend with her—who cares, doesn't mean anything) and smile when it beeps open. You quietly walk up the stairs of her condo and giggle lightly when you spot the familiar golden number _69_ stuck on her front door. Up until now you ask whether or not she chose room 69 because of the the double meaning it possesses but she always refuses with a blush. You know better than that though.

You clear your throat, fix any hair sticking out of your head and dust off the dirt away from your sweatpants. You know it's kind of unattractive popping into someone's home with a sweat-dry tank top on and some sweats but really, you don't care right now because all you can think about is Santana writhing beneath you—

Stop. Don't get ahead of yourself. Open the door and do what you've planned in your head since leaving the dance studio.

Getting rid of all the nasty thoughts inside your brain, you plant a sexy smirk on your lips and insert the key card in, licking your lips when the door opens ajar. Slowly sneaking in, you drop your belongings on the table near the entrance and take of your sneakers, tip toeing your way towards her bedroom. You're not surprised when you see her door half way open, she never liked closing them in fear of an intruder lurking inside her house.

But what surprises you the most is when you take a peak and see her beautiful tan legs wide open, spread out like an eagle and her lithe fingers rubbing up and down her glistening core—and _fuck,_ let's not forget about her hard nipples poking out of her loose bra. She always loves to do that, leave her boobs hanging out of her bra because there was this one time you told her how much it turned you on and she never stopped doing it. You bite your lip and sigh. You know you're starting to have feelings for this woman but you can't, you won't and you know you will never be together.

So instead of drowning yourself in petty thoughts, you kick the door open, holding your laugh when you hear her squeak and quickly get rid of your tank top, tossing it outside her room as you saunter your way towards her. "So you actually listen to me." You joke, stating about the fact she actually started without you.

She blushes, bringing her blanket over her body whilst nibbling on her bottom lip. "I thought you said you'd be here in 30 minutes?" she asks back instead, blushing harder when you tug the blanket away from her hot figure.

You shrug your shoulders. "I walk like a cheetah." You kid around again, smirking when something passes your mind. You immediately crouch down on her bed, crawling your way up until she's back against her bed frame. You growl lowly, seductively, and she gulps. "I run fast, walk fast, and,_ can make you come fast—"_

"Fuck—" Santana curses, pouncing on you before you can do so, immediately crashing your lips together as you battle for dominance. You smile through white teeth as she pushes you down on her bed and tugs on your pants. You giggle and she grunts. "It's not funny how I'm naked and you're not." She whines and still, you again wonder who's the older one really.

"Patience Santan—"

"Fuck patience." She huffs, successfully bringing those sweats off your long legs. "Finally, now this is more I like it." She husks, eyeing your underwear-clad body as she licks her lips hungrily. "You know, if you're a cheetah—I'm like a lion."

You quirk your eyebrows up intensely. "And why a lion, Ms. Lopez?" you purr, teasing her hard nipples as you flick the hard nubs with the tip of your fingers, lightly scratching it with your sharp nails. And you nearly faint when you see Santana buckle and moan at the sensation.

"Because they're the most sexual felines in the world." She replies with a cocky grin and really, you don't want to ruin her mood by saying that was the cutest thing ever because she'll pout again and shuffle away so you just waggle your eyebrows and dip your finger inside her folds slowly, surprising the woman on top of you.

Leaning up, you blow a breathe beside her ear and say, "Then show me what you got tiger." Okay, so Santana may have said she was a lion but come on, it's way sexier to call someone a _tiger._

Rawr.

Santana smirks and crashes her lips against yours, causing you to moan loudly as she starts to grind on your abs.

Yup, she is definitely a rough pussy.

* * *

"Wow, for the first time in months, you're back earlier than 2am."

You blink your eyes a couple of times before turning to the figure sitting on the couch of your living room apartment. Your roommate gives you a teasing smirk and you blush at her words. So what if you haven't been a _roommate_ these past days? It's not your fault Santana makes you not walk after a night of wonder.

"Why are you awake Madison?" You ask, groaning when you feel how much your thighs ache. It must have been from all the squeezing you did on Santana's head when she went down on you. Fuck, you can still feel her tongu—

"Stop fantasizing and look at me Britt." She chides, waving her hand in front of your face as you flop down on the couch beside her and lean most of your weight against her body. She grunts, and tries to push you away. "I'm not strong, move the other way." She complains and you follow, knowing you might fall to the ground if you keep leaning on to her. "So what did Ms. Cinnamon do to make you go home instead of staying the night?"

That's right, you've given Santana a codename so no one would know about your secret relationship. "She has something urgent to do in the morning so we had to cut our activities short." You explained, knowing if you don't, she's going to pester you about it anyways.

"Ew, spare me the _other_ details." She jokes, laughing lightly with her sparkling hazel grey orbs. "Oh and to answer your question, I'm awake because Mason and I, just came back from hanging out in one of his friend's place." She jumps on her seat like a happy kid, smile intact.

You giggle and tilt your head to the side, eyeing her with playfulness. "Wow, why so happy?" you ask, getting suspicious with her reaction.

She shrugs her shoulders and gives you a teasing smile. You gasp and slap her shoulder. "Don't tell me you lost your virginity!?"

Madison's jaw drops and she shakes her head quickly, her pale cheeks turning red. "What?!—Oh god no, Britt—Gross!" she exclaims, scrunching her face up. "I had my first drink Brittany, my first drink!" she whines and you can't help but giggle at her flustered face.

"Well well," You start off, placing your feet on top of her lap; and she's so used to it that she doesn't even flinch from the weight. "How was it?" you ask, making light conversation since you're not so sleepy yet.

Madison twirls a lock of brown hair in between her fingers and hums. "Painful to the chest at first, but thrilling." She says in awe, jumping a bit on her seat _again_. "If I knew it would give me that much of an explosion inside my body, I would have drank as early as a kid!"

You pout, shaking your head. If she drank starting as young as that, she would be lying on a graveyard right now. "I don't think that's something you'd want." You joke, playing with the fingers tickling on your ankles. "Did Mason drink too?"

Nodding her head, Madison winks at you. "Mason and I do everything together."

You once told Santana about your life with Madison, your roommate. You'd talk about all your funny moments together and the times Mason would come over and hang about. And Santana never misses to ask you on whether or not they are actually twins or pretending to be and actually dating. They were just so perfect for each other.

"Of course, I'm sorry for asking." You kid, cuddling yourself on the cushion below your head, wishing you were in another bed instead, but knowing it's not going to happen tonight. But at least she lets you sleep and hold her in your arms now when before, she'd kick you out before you can even say hey.

You wish Santana didn't have that call from her boss after you took a shower. You wish that boss didn't ask Santana to come into work early because no one else could make it. You wish you were with her but you know that's not happening anytime soon. Slowly, you'll get over her. "So, are we sleeping in the couch or what?"

"I'm tired, let's just sleep." She mumbles, closing her eyes slowly and you feel yourself start to drift too—into a land filled with dark mocha eyes and delicious caramel skin.

God, you're favorite chocolate would definitely be a Santana a la mode.

When you wake up, you should have expected the throbbing pain in the back of your neck. You slept in an awful position which you thought was comfy last night and when you turn to find your roomie, you see her halfway down the couch, snoring away. You laugh, shaking your head before wincing at the jolt of pain. "Ugh—" you groan, rotating your head to snap it off.

Madison is still fast asleep when you turn your head to look at the time. You nearly scream when you realize it's already 8:30am.

You're 30 minutes late from your lecture class.

Scrambling out of the soft sofa, you limp your numb body towards your room and grab a hoodie, pulling off your tank top as you replace it with your old high school jacket. The sweatpants have to go to because they're kind of sticky, so you replace them with short shorts. You turn to the mirror and frown when you see how messy your hair is.

God, you wish you had hair like Santana's, they were always in place no matter what.

You have no time to brush, so you grab a ponytail and tie it into a messy bun. At least you can look decent but in a hot kind of way. You apply a bit of lipstick and grab your school bag by the desk. You run to Madison, kiss her on the forehead and set the alarm for 12:00 for her class too and dash off before you miss the whole remaining 25 minutes of the class.

Arriving inside a class lecture wherein you're already 45 minutes late is not something you're proud of. In fact, you're not sure why you even showed up knowing it would be useless coming in. The professor would only embarrass you in front of the whole class.

But maybe that's the reason why you even risked yourself into coming in here—the professor is one thing you can't miss after all.

"Ms. Pierce, so nice of you to join us in our last 15 minutes of class."

You duck your head and feel your cheeks turning red, heating up inconsiderably. "I'm so sorry, I forgot to set my alarm earlier." You reason out, biting your lower lip when you hear the class start to laugh. You hate this feeling.

The professor walks forward, not that near you but close enough and taps her long, manicured fingers on your right shoulder. "But I sent an email saying class is going to start an hour early today."

You blush again, you of all people know that.

"I'm sorry." You couldn't help but stay, staring down at the floor as the class's laughter starts to get louder. You balance yourself on the balls of your feet as you feel that finger start tracing patterns near your collarbone, your back shielding the action from being seen by others.

"I'm sorry—what?" she asks you, and you sense her stare on your head that's bowed down. "I have a name Ms. Pierce. Please respect that."

You nod your head, clearing your throat. "I'm sorry Ms. Lopez, it won't happen again." You slowly raise your head and hold your breath when you lock eyes with chocolate brown orbs.

She's smirking at you.

"Good, now take a seat, you only got 10 minutes left anyways." She sighs, swiveling on the balls of her feet to turn around and saunter her way to the black board.

You make your way to your sit and ignore Quinn (the girl you've been seating beside for almost 3 months now) as she gives you an amused look.

"Okay, so going back to the lecture at hand, since Ms. Pierce thinks it's okay to enter whenever she likes, I have to explain why the derivate of this function is 1—from the top."

Everyone groans and you can feel death glares being thrown your way. Quinn leans close to you and whispers, "It took her 20 minutes for the whole thing. It's a really hard equation." She mumbles, and you roll your eyes, knowing you're on the top of everyone's hate list right now.

After Santana erases the board, she leans back and eyes the room. "And what about a surprise test while we're at it?"

You feel your face pale as Santana subtly flashes you a wink. There are more groans from the students around you and you really want to wipe off the smirk that's placed on Santana's annoyingly gorgeous lips.

"We have to thank Ms. Pierce for that one."

God, now you know why you hate her sometimes.

* * *

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**Before I decide to post a new chapter**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Time's Ticking

**Summary: **How much time do you have left until love is lost and fails to exist, and you're left counting the minutes alone forever?

**Pairing: **Brittany/Santana

**Rating: **T/M

**Words: **3.9k

* * *

"Fuck." You curse to yourself, running as fast as you can as you bump against many strangers on your way to NYU. You hastily check the time on your iPhone and groan when you realize it's moving at a really fast tempo. "This cannot be happening."

You were just so caught up with teaching the young kids for their upcoming recital in their school that you lost track of time and before you know it, it's already 3:30 and your first Calculus class started 30 minutes ago.

"I'm so dead." You huff, colliding against someone as the said person falls on his butt and starts yelling at you. You flush and say a quick sorry before dashing off again, feeling bad for not helping him out. You're not a bad person, you'd definitely drop everything and help him especially since it's your fault but,

You're seriously going to get kicked out of the university if you're not inside that room in the next 5 minutes.

You've heard stories about the Calculus professor. You met this girl named Quinn inside the library renting the same book you were renting for the class when she asked you if you knew the rumors.

Curious, you asked her what were they.

"_She's like the devil."_

"_When she writes on the board, it's like hearing people cry."_

"_One time, she expelled a guy for dropping his pencil _by accident."

"_Oh yeah, she totally has the power to do that because her cousin, Noah Puckerman, is the head director &amp; dean of NYU. She practically owns the school."_

"_Even Mr. Puckerman is terrified of her."_

So if that woman can get a kid out of NYU just for dropping his pencil, you're scared what she'll do to you for being late for more than half an hour.

"606…606… damn it! Where the hell is—" You're frantically eyeing each door on the first floor of the mathematics building. All you see are number 1's and that's when your face drains because, no, the room's 5 floors higher.

You check the time again.

3:43

Should you even try?

"_Oh and never be absent, that's one thing she absolutely hates."_

"Come on." You groan, pressing the up button to the elevator repeatedly as you look at the time every millisecond. You know you should've used the stairs but you saw the elevator was in level 2 and you're at 1 so it's much faster this way.

When it dings open, you're happy to see no one inside and you run in, immediately pressing the number 6 on the wall as you clasp your hands together and give a short prayer to the Lord.

"Please let her have food poisoning yesterday and cancel class." You mumbled with slightly closed lips.

You doubt your wish would come true.

It felt like hours inside that metal box, and when it finally opens, you couldn't breathe as you carry your legs up and dash 6 doors down before pushing the door open and running in like a maniac.

Everything's bright at first as you let your eyes adjust to the light.

Everyone's looking at you, with your hands on your knees as you crouch down and have a breather. Fuck, you've never felt this breathless, only that one time you had incredible sex with a brunette bombshell in a club once but that was just a one-time thing.

"I—" You don't even know what to say. God, you don't know what's wrong with you. You're holding the edge of the door like your life depended on it, and you're blinking furiously to get yourself to calm down.

It's like you ran a marathon or something.

"I'm sorry—"

"—You're late."

You straighten up and clear your throat, turning your eyes to a woman standing in the lowest part of the room, with her hands holding unto some folder as she reads something inside it.

"And would you stop panting so loud? You sound like a dog in heat." The professor continues, still not looking up as you slowly walk inside the room with quivering legs.

Shit, you're not ready to let go of NYU yet, it's just the start of the year.

That's it, it's the end.

"I'm sorry I just—I lost track—"

When she slams the folder she's holding onto the table, creating an echo sound, you feel your eyes start to water. You hate how much of a crybaby you are, you're just not used to seeing strangers mad at you. Especially a teacher. Back at home, everyone loved you.

"That is not an excuse to be fuckin—" The professor stops as soon as she makes eye contact with you.

Chocolate almond.

You blink again and hope you didn't drool for that one second of staring.

But god, those eyes are so gorgeous.

She's still staring at you, her eyes almost wide like she saw a ghost or something. And you're about to say something, maybe apologize again, when you notice those brown orbs go down and stare at something else, licking her lips.

You furrow your eyebrows and wonder what's up when you feel a cold wind brush through your exposed abdomen. You gasp and snap your head down to look at your body when you realize that you're just in your dancing clothes, which consists of your sports bra and loose sweats, that's barely hanging unto your waist.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you wish you grabbed your shirt that was inside your duffel bag and put it on on the way up the elevator. That did feel like hours.

"I was at—"

"Get out."

You feel your heart stop when the professor's lips move but her eyes remain on your—abs.

"Wait, please don—"

"I said get out." She finally looks up, eyebrow quirking up as she challenges you. "Or are you talking back at me—" She picks up the folder she threw away and reads something inside. "—Ms. Pierce."

You gulp.

She knows your name now.

You're dead.

"But, I just want to say—"

"If you don't go out now, I'm going to do something much worse." She hisses, and it's only now that you hear the snickers going around the room. You subtly glance at your classmates and see all of them smirking at you.

You feel your blood boiling in embarrassment.

Great, now you're the laughing stock of the frosh.

"Say another word and I'll kick you out myself." The professor goes on, clucking her tongue as she narrows her eyes on you. "And stay outside, don't move a muscle until I end lecture which is in about 10 minutes." She laughs sarcastically and you bite your lower lip to stop yourself from letting a tear fall down your cheek.

You slowly nod your head and adjust the grip of your duffel bag as you turn around and walk out of the room, but not before hearing roars of laughter.

Great job Brittany.

When you let the door go and it's about to close, you hear the professor yelling.

"What's so funny?"

* * *

Sitting down on an empty hallway never felt so—lonely in your life. For the past 10 minutes, you've been un-strapping and strapping your duffel bag and you finally put on the tank top you left inside. You hope she's not that mad at your inappropriate clothing.

When the bell rings, and all the students inside every classroom goes out, you remain on the floor with your head ducked down. You hear whispers and other words and you're pretty sure they're all about you.

"Brittany?"

You look up, happy to see Quinn from the library. She's smiling softly at you and you can't help but return it. "Hey Quinn."

She offers a hand to you and you accept it gratefully, making her pull you up as you fiddle with the tip of your sweatpants nervously. "Must be my karma, huh?"

Quinn laughs and shakes her head. "It's not your fault…" She tries and you give her a weakened smile. You both know what's going to happen next. "Hey, don't worry about it, maybe she'll let it go?"

Quinn's trying hard to make you feel better and you're glad she's so nice but right now you're really worried about your future.

Time to start looking for a college that can accept students during the start of the fall.

God, you're so stupid for letting this happen.

"Anyways, good luck Brittany, I'll see you around." She hums, patting your shoulder sweetly as she flashes you one last smile before you walk inside the very empty room.

Your sneakers made loud tapping noises as you approach her. She was putting files and books inside her shoulder bag and you didn't know how to make your presence known.

In fact, you didn't even know her name.

Wait, isn't she the cousin of Mr. Puckerman? So she must have the same last name right?

"Ms. Puckerman, I'm so sorry for being late, I was caught in—"

She snaps her head to you and frowns a bit. "Did you just call me Ms. Puckerman?"

You blush. It looks like you were wrong.

"I—uh, I assumed—"

"I'll forget you even called me that since you already have two strikes with me today, Ms. Pierce."

You sigh, ducking your head down in shame, missing the way the professor side eyes you with curiosity.

"So let's start this again. Why were you late?"

You could lie. Say something like, you were in the area when an old woman had a heart attack and collapsed in the middle of the road, causing you to bring her to the hospital. Or something like that.

But you're not a bad person.

"I got caught up in time teaching kids at the dance studio I work part-time in." You explain yourself slowly, not wanting to meet her eyes. The excuse was stupid and petty.

"You do know that's not a valid excuse." She sighs, zipping her bag close as you nod your head dumbly.

"I will accept any punishment you give me." You condemn sadly, biting your lower lip. "Besides death." You mumble half-joking, half-serious to yourself, hoping the devil teacher did not hear you. Quinn said to watch out after all.

She heard it though. "Death? I'm not a murderer, Ms. Pierce." She laughs lightly. At least you made her laugh, does that minus at least one strike?

There's a bit of a silence going on, with you just staring at your—actually, you don't even know her name yet. And you don't know why you pushed yourself to ask as you open your mouth.

"What's your name?"

The professor glances at you shortly, a perfectly manicured eyebrow raised up as she watches you. There's something going on inside that head of hers and you badly want to know.

"Right." She clears her throat, leaving whatever she was fixing inside her shoulder bag as she adjusts the collar of her blouse and flattens the bottom of her short pencil skirt. "Take a seat." She says, turning her back to you as she walks towards the board, grabbing a chalk.

Slowly and _unsurely,_ you follow her instructions, not wanting to risk anything by being too curious. Gulping, you sit down on the first seat you saw and tap your fingernails nervously on the wooden table.

You watch as she writes something on the board before stopping, clapping her hands together to get rid of the dust, then twisting on the balls of her feet to face you, a sinister smirk in place. "Good morning class." She hums, strutting forward. "My name is Santana Lopez, you may call me Ms. Lopez, and I'm going to be your Calculus professor for the year."

Silence.

_What?_

"Uh—I—uhh—" You seriously don't know what to say, but you know your cheeks are flushing a deep shade of red as she continues to stare at you with her dark brown eyes that—wait, are black now?

Ms. Lopez is still waiting for you to say something, her hands leaning back on her desk to support herself as she tilts her head at you and licks her lips.

Shit. You need to say something.

Abruptly, you stand up and clear your throat. "H-Hello Ms. Lopez, I'm Brittany Pierce, Math Major." That's the best you could think of to reply to her.

You felt stupid with her there.

She smirks, and you know she isn't disappointed with your response. "Nice to meet you." She hums, transferring her weight to the right as she slowly brings her left hand up, tracing her super defined jawline.

You blink, feeling a hot sensation going on between your thighs.

"Before we start, I think we need an ice-breaker question."

Ice-breaker question?

You wish she could tell you to sit down or something because you're sure your legs are going to give way if she continues to touch her caramel skin like that. A devil indeed.

"Think you could handle it?" she asks, pouting her lips.

You nod your head furiously. "I love math." You blurt, blushing hard again at your stupid reply.

You really feel stupid with her there.

She smirks, obviously amused with your nervousness. "Good. I love it too." Ms. Lopez stays where she is, bringing her other hand up so both of them were hanging idly by the top of her blouse. You gulp, not knowing what's going to happen next.

Painfully slow, she opens the first button. "Basic problem solving. A math teacher is inside an empty hot classroom. It was so hot, she could barely breath inside." Two buttons now. "The only possible solution is to open her blouse with just a certain number of buttons to make sure it isn't too inappropriate for her next class, but enough to let her breathe a bit." Three buttons.

Your eyes widen. You're pretty sure this isn't some sort of basic problem solving.

Four buttons.

"Her next class starts in 2 minutes."

You glance at the clock; it's 4:58. Shit, she's not bluffing you is she? You whip your head to the doors and curse to yourself mentally when you see a bunch of students outside the locked door.

"How many buttons does she have to open—" Before she could finish whatever the hell she was saying, you run up to her, grabbing the fifth button she opened, and started to close it. You side-eye the clock.

1 minute.

You hope she's not saying anything anymore and you hope she doesn't snap at you as you start buttoning the third button.

The automatic door clicks open and you turn to see a green light blinking above the door and then you hear a chuckle. You whip your head to the professor and she's smirking. You look down and see her holding a remote.

Fuck.

30 seconds before the bell rings.

Why the hell is it taking you so long to button up two more?

You're unto the second when you hear the bell ring. "Fuck." You curse. You need to get out when they come in so they don't find you in a very close position with the calculus professor.

Time seems to drag so long as you hear footsteps about to come in. Your hands are clammy as you do the last button even though it's not necessary because she'll look stupid with all her buttons clipped together. Blouses are meant to have at least one open. But, ever since your eye caught her red lace bra, you just had the urge to close her fully.

Once you're done, you don't bother to look at her as you grab your duffle bag from the floor, duck your head down, and leave the room just as people were rushing in. You're turning around the corned and heading inside the elevator when you finally feel yourself starting to breath.

Shit. You feel like it's 100 degrees inside this elevator box.

On your way down, thinking about what just happened in that room, a Latina professor is currently smirking as she introduces herself to the next class.

A file of one Brittany Susan Pierce is placed outside of her bag and on top of her desk with a post it that says

_Grade: A_

* * *

"Fuck fuck fuck."

"Wow, this is probably the first time I ever heard you curse so many times." Madison, your roommate, says with a bunch of chips falling off her mouth. She is a very messy eater.

You're pacing around the living room, ruffling your messy blonde hair as you close your eyes for a moment and groan. "Fuuuuuck."

Standing up, Madison laughs and throws a piece of chip on your face. "As much as this amuses me, stop cursing before I think you're an imposter."

"I'm so stupid." You huff, dropping yourself on the couch as Madison gives you a frown.

"No you're not." She says, chewing on her food.

You shake your head and pout. "No, this isn't a joke Madi, I did the worse possible thing on my first day of Calculus." You explain, pinching your cheeks. "And when I say worse, I mean horrible."

She scrunches her face up and sits down beside you. "I'm pretty sure _worse_ and _horrible _mean the same thing, Britt."

Leaning your head on her shoulder, you continue to ramble out your thoughts. "And what was that all about?"

"What was what about?" Madison asks, getting super confused.

"I mean, why did she start unbuttoning in front of me like she wasn't my t—" You stop and gulp, peeking up at Madison as she continues to look confuzzled.

"I'm sorry, I don't get what you're trying to say here Britt. Who was unbuttoning herself?" She stopped eating and left her chips on her lap. "Did you go to a strip club this early in the evening?" She jokes, causing you to slap her on the arm. Laughing, she raises her hands up in defense. "Just kidding."

You roll your eyes at her and fight a smile. "Not funny. Anyways, I was late." You continue to tell her about your day, wanting to divert your previous talk about the unbuttoning topic. "By like 50 minutes." You sigh, scratching your head in frustration.

"Whoa, that's pretty late." She hums, licking her lips. "Did the professor get mad or something?"

Get mad? More like got horny.

You blush at your dirty thoughts.

"Something like that." You huff, playing with your fingers.

Madison stands up and throws the bag of chips to your lap. "Nevermind that, just make sure you aren't late anymore." She says like it was the most obvious solution in the planet.

"Oh believe me, I intend to never be late again." Oh how wrong you were. "Hearing a bunch of people laugh at me is something I do not want to experience again." You say, tossing some chips to your mouth as you munch on them. Madison quickly runs inside the kitchen to grab two glasses of water and places them on the coffee table before grabbing the TV remote.

"Good, at least you have that on your mind." She responds, leaning back as she turns on the TV. "So what should we watch for tonight's weekly movie marathon?"

You point at something on the screen. "Bad Teacher." You say, blushing when you think of your professor. "Cameron Diaz is amazing."

"Got it." Madison mumbles, placing her feet on top of the table as she clicks on the movie icon. "Do you mind if I call Mason to come over?"

You smirk. "Sure, just don't make out while I'm here."

As soon as you feel a pillow smacking your face, you feel your nose sting. "Ouch! Madison!"

"Your fault, you horndog." She mumbles, crossing her arms together as you laugh. "Whatever I'm not calling him anymore."

You lay back and watch as Cameron Diaz drives a red car inside a parking lot of some mansion.

In the back of your head, you can't help but think your professor would look great in any color red.

Halfway into the movie, you get an email alert on your iPhone. You pull it out and read an unknown mail that just came up your feed.

To: brittanypierce

Fr: santanalopezNYU

_Excellent performance Ms. Pierce, you got a grade of A on my first test._

You glance at Madison to see if she was looking at you, you're happy she wasn't.

Another ping, another message.

To: brittanypierce

Fr: santanalopezNYU

_Are you ready for Quiz number 2?_

Eyes going wide, you shuffle out of the couch, earning a curious stare from your roommate.

"Britt? You okay?" she asks, pausing the movie.

You wave her off and smile at her. "Yeah, just need to reply to someone, go watch without me." You say, heading towards the bathroom. You lock it and sit down on the closed toilet seat.

Should you reply?

To: santanalopezNYU

Fr: brittanypierce

_Good evening, Ms. Lopez. What are the pointers I need to study on?_

Maybe she was bluffing you. And it's a good thing you replied seriously. You're about to stand up and walk back to Madison when your phone blinks again.

To: brittanypierce

Fr: santanalopezNYU

_Click this link:_

A long blue link was pasted underneath her message. You look around your bathroom and think.

Should you open it?

Ugh, whatever's going on was weird enough already anyways.

You click it and wait.

As soon as the webpage pops out, your jaw drops.

**Different Sex Positions on top of a Desk**

Is this a joke?

Before you could reply to your professor and say she sent the wrong link, your phone flashes an alert on your email.

To: brittanypierce

Fr: santanalopezNYU

_Read it carefully and thoroughly, your test is 10 minutes before class tomorrow since you were late for an hour today._

_You owe me that much._

You don't get her angle here.

To: santanalopezNYU

Fr: brittanypierce

_Ms. Lopez, I think you sent the wrong link._

Two seconds before the next reply.

To: brittanypierce

Fr: santanalopezNYU

_I'm never wrong._

* * *

**_Sorry for the late post, hope you enjoyed this chapter! First part was quite similar to the prologue but it had to be done. Hope you'll continue to read the following chapters to come. It's going to be great._**

**_FOLLOW, FAVORITE AND REVIEW!_**


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Time's Ticking

**Summary: **How much time do you have left until love is lost and fails to exist, and you're left counting the minutes alone forever?

**Pairing: **Brittany/Santana

**Rating: **T/M

**Words: **5.2k

* * *

"Hey Britt." Madison says, walking inside your room as you abruptly shut your laptop close with the reddest cheeks ever. Your roommate eyes you suspiciously before shaking it off. "Uh—do you mind me leaving for a while?"

You fix your hair, which hasn't been brushed for the past 2 days and clear your throat. "W-where are you going?" You ask, spinning around in your work chair.

Madison leans against your doorway and crosses her arms together. "Mason invited me to hang out with his friends to some karaoke. Wanna come?" She asks, smiling brightly with her gleaming eyes—you swear, they're almost as nice as yours.

You shake your head slowly with a small smile. "No, it's okay." You mumble, tapping your fingers on top of your laptop. "I have to study for a test tomorrow." You add, wanting nothing more than to hide under your blankets and re-think about whether or not Ms. Lopez is playing with you.

Quirking her eyebrow, Madison grins. "That's too bad." She says, biting her lower lip. "You could dance around while we sing?"

Now she's pushing your deepest temptations.

You laugh, and roll your eyes at her. "Nice try." You reply, giggling lightly. "But I really need the whole night."

Your roommate shrugs her shoulders and waves goodbye to you over her shoulder as she exits her room. "Don't wait up for me then, Britt! Bye!"

Chuckling, you return to face your desk while nibbling on your inner cheek. You stare at your laptop, sigh, and open it up again. Right in front of you, stares the webpage of the link Ms. Lopez sent you. You've read it about 20 times these past 2 days and you don't know what she's trying to make you do. It could be a trick to test your awareness. Like if you're aware that she's just doing this to see if you'll fall for her nasty tricks or not. But if she was testing you, she wouldn't email you about it because now you have evidence. In fact, you could march up to Mr. Noah Puckerman and get her fired for this, even if she is his cousin. If not him, then maybe the police. But no, it's like she knows you won't report her.

But that's weird because you only just met the woman.

"I don't get it." You whine, jutting out your lower lip as you re-read the page for the 23rd time. It's just pointers and advice, and reviews from people who visited the page but nothing more _calculus_ related.

You groan, drop your head to your desk and let out a big puff of frustrated air. You don't understand the woman, and you think you never will. When you hear your phone ringing, you're not surprised to see Madison leaving a text.

_Might sleepover at Mason's if ever! Gluck on your test Britt! ( :_

Looking at the screen, you push yourself off the seat and grab your coat.

Maybe some music and alcohol can solve your problems.

When you go out of your dorm room and lock the door, you're just in luck because you bump into Mercedes, a girl who lives right next to you and is majoring in Musical Theatre and Arts. You smile at her politely and pocket your keys, about to leave towards the elevator when she calls your name.

"Hey Britt, where you heading this late at night?" She asks you, returning the smile as you both enter the elevator. You press the L button and watch the numbers decrease on top.

"Gonna look for a bar to let loose tonight." You reply, chuckling a bit. "Know anywhere place good, 'Cedes?"

Mercedes grins, almost like she knew you were going to ask and buffs her chest up, giving you a smirk. "Follow me honey, I'm just on my way to 69, it's the pub all of us music majors go to."

You blush and duck your head shyly. "Oh I shouldn't then—" You start to say, not wanting to intrude in a course you're not even in on.

The sassy woman just waves you off and scoffs. "Please, I wouldn't invite you if I didn't think it'd be okay." She hums, wagging a finger at you as the door opens. "What you're wearing though…"

You look down and inspect yourself. You're just wearing a pair of black skinny jeans and tank top. It's nothing fancy or whatever for a club but you never bothered with it because you'd wear a trashbag and still be hot. But maybe she's talking about your messy bunned hair.

"You're lucky you're hot girly, but your blonde hair is like sticking out everywhere." She points out, laughing lightly as you walk out the doors of your dorm condo. She points to a taxi waiting outside and smiles. "Hop in with me?"

You nod gratefully and blow out a puff of air above you which you thought helped removed the bangs from falling all over your face but failed. When you're sliding inside the vehicle and Mercedes is giving the directions to the driver, she tells you to face the window and that she'll fix it instead.

"You're like… really nice." You blurt out, stating your thoughts. "Like, it took my roommate a year until she could finally say more than one sentence to me and be nice enough to grab my towel when I left it while I'm in the showers." You mumble, causing Mercedes to laugh a bit.

"I'm just a people's person." She responds naturally, tapping your shoulder when she's done and you scrunch your nose up when you feel how tightly she tied your hair up in a pony tail. "Don't worry, it'll loosen up as soon as you start dancing." She assures you and you flash her a smile in response.

Sighing, you stare out the window and furrow your eyebrows together.

Well, here we go.

* * *

"Can I leave you alone?" Mercedes asks you through the loud beats of the music, the thumping causing your heart to throb as well.

"Yeah! Thanks again for bringing me here." You shout back at her since it's too noisy to communicate. Mercedes grins, winks and trots away in all her sassy glory. Now you really want to be friends with her.

You find a vacant seat by the bar and sit down, leaning back against the counter with your elbows as you scan the crowd. You're looking for something—or someone—interesting enough to distract you for the night and there's this smoking hot brunette pumping her chest like there's no tomorrow and it's got you licking your lips. Maybe she can distract you from the devil that is Ms. Santana Lopez.

"Can I buy you a drink?" A man's gross and hot voice asks right beside you, making you cringe. You didn't really bring your wallet over and you have your coat on you and it's seriously getting hot so you nod your head dumbly and he cheers like he won a prize. You keep staring at this small brunette, changing her dance moves to something more erotic as she grinds her hips down on the air, humping no one in particular and you smirk because yes, you're definitely interested now.

"Here sweet—" You snatch the shot glass from his poor hand and drink the whole thing, sending him a polite grin as you return the glass object and remove your coat, leaving it on the counter as you saunter your way towards the woman in the dance floor.

You're so near her, ready to claim her for the night when she spins around and you can finally see her face clearly. Your eyes bulge out and your mouth drops when in the last second, you spin on the balls of your feet and walk back to the bar counter. You feel your cheeks flushing and your heart beating when you take a seat again and put on your coat, hoping it could shield you from the damn brunette.

_Fucking Santana Lopez._

"Back for more?" The guy waggles his eyebrows drunkenly like he knew you'd come back and you don't want to be mean, you're never mean, so you laugh lightly at him and shake your head.

Unfortunately, he thinks it's a good sign so when he gets close to you and winks, you feel your stomach churning. "How about another drink for being such a good girl?"

You gulp and shake your head again, declining his offer.

"Are you diseased or something? You haven't spoken since I said hey." He asks in such a serious tone it makes you want to walk away but you don't know where.

Just to prove him wrong, you take the shot glass he offers and narrow your blue eyes on him. "Hey." You grunt back, pouting your lips.

His eyes immediately fall down your mouth and licks his own. "So you do speak."

"Yeah, but she doesn't find you worthy enough to use her voice."

You turn around and immediately smile upon seeing Mercedes. She has her arms crossed and she's glaring at this not-so-poor boy.

"Fuck off Mercedes, can't I have some fun?"

So they know each other.

Rolling her eyes, Mercedes grabs your hand and just as you guys were about to walk away, she yells at him again. "Not this one!"

You laugh and tighten your hold on her. "Thanks, he was creepy." You say close to her ear as she laughs along. "Like, really creepy—"

"Don't mind Jesse, he's always like that." Mercedes replies, stopping in front of a booth. "And this is my crew, Brittany, I'd like you to meet my group."

A bunch of students sat around a table, drinking a few bottles. You smile and wave at them, gleaming when you spot a familiar face. "Quinn?" You gasp and she shoots her gaze to you, smirking.

"Brittany Tardy Pierce?" She jokes and you frown at her. "Just kidding sweetie, what are you doing here?"

You point to Mercedes. "Mercedes invited me over! What are _you_ doing here?"

Grinning, Quinn winks at you. "Why shouldn't I be here?" She quip back, causing the people around her to chuckle. And you're not surprised, Quinn's like really popular in NYU.

"Britt, let me just introduce you to them before they get drunk and forget your name." Mercedes teases, starting on the left side of the circular table. "That's Mike, Tina, Rachel, and you know Quinn, Blaine, and Roderick."

You wave and blush when the first guy Mercedes introduces you too gives you a wink. "Guys, this is Brittany, she's in Quinn's class."

Quinn brings up her bottle and yells, "We're both math nerds deal with it!"

"Is she drunk already?" You whisper to Mercedes and get a giggle as a response. "Wow, that was quick."

"Did you just call me a light weight?" Quinn shouts and you laugh, shaking your head when she slumps down and leans on the woman's shoulder beside her—Rachel.

"But there's one more person I'd like you to meet! Well, she's more of Rachel's friend because Rachel isn't a student like her—they're both professors—"

You feel a shiver go through your spine. You've got to be kidding—please don't say it Mercedes, you beg in your mind, please don't say what you think she's going to say.

"Oh wait! She's here now,"

"'Cedes, give me some tequila, I'm too sober for this—" You turn around and gulp upon seeing the devil in the flesh.

Professor Santana Lopez stops walking as soon as her mocha brown eyes land on you as well. There's a moment of silence.

You can feel Quinn's gaze on you.

"Ms. Lopez! I'm pretty sure you know who this is—"

"Tardy girl." Santana blurts out, a smirk growing on her lips. "Even late in the party, what are you early in?" She teases you and you feel yourself blushing.

"M-Ms. Lopez—" You stutter, cursing your teeth for being so chattery.

"What is it with people calling you tardy?" Mercedes asks aloud, grinning mysteriously. "I'll go look for my boy in the dance floor, enjoy yourself Britt!" She exclaims, walking away and leaving you staring right at Santana's glorious eyes.

Ms. Lopez licks her lips and chuckles. "Fancy seeing you here." She husks, walking up close to you. "What's an accounting major doing in a music major club?"

You badly want to ask her the same question. Surprisingly, you did. "Y-You're here." You blurt, stepping back when she gets nearer.

Nodding, she stops her walk. "I'm everywhere."

Your eyebrows furrow together, confused when you notice the twinkle in her eyes. Almost immediately, you smile.

She's drunk.

And you wonder why she even bothered saying she was sober a while ago.

Just to prove your assumption, she bends her upper body down and laughs. "Ha! Everywhere, wasn't that funny?"

"Um—" You don't know what to say, but you're fighting the smile that's about to erupt on your face. So much for sexy sultry professor.

"Do you want me to get you water?" You ask, watching as she straightens up, puts her arm out like she's going to lean on something but the thing is, there's no wall beside her, so she's tilting and you manage to grab her around the waist. "Whoa there,"

"I don't need some H20, I am the water."

She's really not making any sense. You bring her up and she pushes you away. "Whoa, Ms. Pierce, I don't let people touch me on the first date."

Your eyebrows quirk up. Date?

"Ms. Lopez, I think you should sit—"

She pushes a finger up to your lips and shushes you. "O-Outside of work you call me Santana." She commands you, scrunching her nose up. "No Ms. Lopez, you can even call me Tana, that's what my daughter calls me."

Your jaw drops and your eyes open.

She has a kid?

Lips quivering, Santana throws her head back and hollers. "Oh my god, that was too good!" She yells, slapping her thigh.

That's when you know she's shitting you.

"That wasn't funny." You mutter, lips pouting.

Santana's eyes soften at looking at your pout before it's shaken off. "Oh please, I'm a lesbian, how do you expect I get knocked up?"

Well, in a span of 5 minutes you found out two things about this woman.

One, when she's drunk, she's very vulnerable and witty.

Two, she's a lesbian.

You wish you didn't know about the latter.

It just makes her test for you for tomorrow even more serious.

Oh wait, another information:

She has no kid.

Like it even matters to you.

Smiling, you shake your head at her, tightening your hold around her waist. "I should bring you home. Can you remember your address?" You joke, pulling her away from the drunken people and towards the exit sign.

Santana grunts in reply. "New York."

You laugh and fight the big grin that's about to show on your lips. "Mhmm, I can tell. Wanna tell me where in New York?"

Santana shakes her head side to side, silently saying no and you fake a frustrated huff. "You're really not going to tell me?"

Grinning, she nods her head.

You smirk and shrug your shoulders. "I guess you have to go home with me then—"

She doesn't expect that, her eyes are wide and her jaw drops and just as you were about to say something to ease her mind, Santana's cheeks puff and she crunches down, throwing up whatever it is inside her stomach. She empties it all out and you gasp because it ends up splattering all over your feet.

"Oh my—"

Santana places her hand on your shoulder and looks up at you, groaning. "S-Shit, I-I'm sorry." She gurgles, swaying in her place. "Bathroom—"

"Yes, right, of course, bathroom. Right there. Let's go." You ramble, holding unto her bicep as she stumbles her way to the public restrooms. She pushes it open with her free arm and runs to one of the available cubicles, the sounds of hurling and puking invade your ears as you cringe in place by the doorway.

It goes on for about 5 more minutes before she's walking out, rubbing her chin dry with the back of her wrist. She blushes when you make eye contact with her and groans, switching the faucet on to wash her hands.

You laugh and she makes another frustrated voice. "Are you going to black mail me?" she asks you and you giggle. "You are aren't you?"

Something goes into your mind and you hum lightly, walking close to her. "Actually, I am."

She turns her head a bit to you and quirks an eyebrow up. "You do know I'm your professor right?"

"But I thought you were outside of work?" You retort with a smirk.

"Touche." She grunts, leaning forward on the sink, her arms flexing. "Now what do you want me to do in exchange of this embarrassment?"

Your expression then turns serious as you cross your arms together, clench your jaw and look away from her and the mirror, where you know she's staring at your reflection. "I don't want to take the quiz you have for me tomorrow."

There's a bit of a silence at first and you're about to think that she fell asleep standing or something when Santana all about slaps her skin—you're not sure where because you've been staring at the dirty tiles—and lets out a gasp.

"Oh! You mean _that_ quiz?"

Yes, the quiz where she basically asked you to research about different sex positi—you know what, you don't even want to think about it since it makes you so flustered all the damn time. You nod your head, finally chancing a glance at her.

She's in another position now, her back facing the mirror as she nibbles on her lower lip. "Was I reading all the signs wrong?" She wonders, chewing on her inside cheek this time. "I for sure _remember_ you staring at my ass the other day."

Your eyes widen and you gulp. She caught you?

By the way her lips turn into a smirk, you guess she feels triumphant now. "Aha!" She exclaims, pointing a finger at you. "So you were checking me out!"

You shake your head furiously, blushing a deep shade of red. "I-I-wasn't! I just—I just, thought your skirt was really nice and—and—w-was thinking what brand might that be." You ramble, doing some hand gestures.

Santana chuckles and licks her lips. "Right." She replies, tilting her head to the side and when you look into her dark eyes, you know she's still drunk. "A+." She grunts, closing her eyes as you scrunch your nose up.

"A+? I'm sorry—what? Are you grading me?"

The door behind you opens and in comes Mercedes who stops walking when she sees the both of you. She takes turns looking between Santana and you before you see the signs of a nasty grin on her face. She giggles and winks at the both of you. "Ms. Lopez, another one already? Don't worry, I won't tell Kitty."

Somehow, Mercedes' words punches your gut and your left to clenching your fists again. You look back down to the tiled floor and let out an exhale. She's just toying with you.

There's a sudden tension in the room and you oddly feel like Santana's sober now when a strong, tanned arm encircles your waist and brings you closer to the foreign body. You feel plump lips pressing light kisses to your neck and you blush. Santana leaves her head on the crook of your neck and inhales your scent before staring back at Mercedes.

"What can I say? I love blondes."

Mercedes laughs and you feel a vein popping on your forehead. You shove Santana away from you and slam the bathroom door open, trotting your way outside of the damn club. This is what you hate. People who treat people like sluts. You're just out of the door when you hear your name being called. You don't know why, but you wish it was Santana.

"Get away from me!" You yell, not bothering to face her as you raise your hand and wait for a taxi.

"Um—are you like an angry drunk or something?"

You turn to your right and you're surprised to see Quinn, your classmate. You sigh and release your frustrations with a forced smile. "No, sorry, I thought you were someone else."

She quirks an eyebrow and smirks. "Hooked up with someone already Britt? Who was it? I know everyone in the arts building, I hang around there a lot." She giggles and sways a bit, confirming your suspicions about how drunk she may be. At least not Santana drunk.

God, she made you mad.

"Um. No, what is it with all of you asking me about a hook up?" You say your thoughts out loud, not meaning to sound so rough. Quinn notices and her features soften. "I'm sorry—New York's just so different from my hometown, I don't—"

Quinn puts a hand up and smiles, a taxi immediately stopping in front of the both of you. Amazed, you climb in along with her. The short-haired blonde turns to you and smiles. "It's okay, you'll get used to it." She says, rubbing your shoulders in comfort. It's silent in the cab for a while before Quinn completely falls back on the seat and groans, peeking at you through her bangs. "N-Now don't be shocked or get mad but—I'm too drunk to remember my address, mind if I crash?"

You smile and throw your head back, laughing. That was probably the highlight of your night. You touch her exposed ankle and give it a light tap, smiling brightly at her for the first time that evening. "Roommate's not coming home so you can take her bed."

Quinn punches a fist in the air and squeals. "Yes!"

You quickly tell the driver your address and in only a few minutes, you're already dropping a sleeping Quinn on top of Madison's bed with drool spilling out of her mouth. You grab a towel and cradle Quinn's head with your hand so that you could slip the towel in and laugh when she kicks her heels off of her feet.

When you're done fixing your own self, and you have a toothbrush inside your mouth, you're surprised to see your phone blinking. You slide it open and frown upon seeing mail.

To: brittanypierce

Fr: santanalopezNYU

_Jjwrareyouokayo wieusorry riesfremener nonquizeser you!_

_xxxxxxxxxSSSSXZ_

Well. How unprofessional can she get? Is she like this to all her students? She doesn't deserve to teach. She doesn't deserve to be where she is by drinking around with college students in a bar—even if she's not in that specific department. You really don't want to reply but whatever, one won't hurt right?

To: santanalopezNYU

Fr: brittanypierce

_Please drink some water, Ms. Lopez._

There wasn't a reply after that. Well you thought there wasn't. But when you wake up the next day and sit down on your kitchen stool with a stumbling Quinn, asking for some breakfast, you're still confused by her message.

To: brittanypierce

Fr: santanalopezNYU

_A+_

Seriously, Is she grading you?

"Brittany!" Quinn screams, jolting you in your place. You smile at her and she groans, scratching her head. "Someone's knocking on the door."

"Oh." You mumble, placing your phone down as you get up and walk towards the front. When you open it, you're not surprised to see Madison in all her happy glory. "Madi, what's up?"

She waltz inside and drops her bag on the couch, entering the kitchen whilst talking about a great night when she stops. You furrow your eyebrows and follow her in. You chuckle when you spot Quinn's head on the counter, snoring away. Madison turns to you and licks her lips which changes into a smirk. You open your mouth immediately to say something but she cuts you off.

"I thought you were into brunette's?"

You smack your forehead and whine. "She's not a hook up! God, I hate that word so much." During the past 24 hours, you've heard the word _hook_ and _up _about 20 times or so. What is it with people's minds these days? "She's just a friend who couldn't recall her address and asked to sleepover."

Giggling, Madison waggles her eyebrows at me. "Oh yeah, she totally _slept over_—tell me, was it_ over_ your body or—"

You blush and send her a glare. "Madison!" You squeal, shaking your head in embarrassment. "I said she was too drunk to remember her address."

"Uhuh—" she hums, sipping from your orange juice. "—I _remember_ you telling me the same story when that Mexican chick came over and then—what was it you said?"

Biting your lower lip, you fight the heat on your cheeks from the memory.

Madison gasps and nods her head. "That's right! You said you _rocked her world so good she never thought of her own place to stay."_ She laughs out loud, causing Quinn to wake up and slam her hands down on the metal counter.

You're thankful for the subject change.

"It's so loud." The blonde whimpers, her short hair sticking out everywhere. "I hear an annoying sound."

Madison frowns and crosses her arms together. "I don't like this one." She mumbles to you and you smile. "My voice is angelic."

You grab a plate from the stove and slide it towards Quinn who sloppily thanks you for the breakfast. "Self-centered much?" You joke.

Madison glares at you and huffs. "Truthful is more like it."

"Anyways, I need to get Quinn sobered up and ready, we have calculus in an hour."

"Goodluck with that." Madison says, giggling at Quinn who misses the egg, causing it to drop back into her plate. "I take it back, she's funny, I like her."

"Britt—do we have a quiz today?" Quinn asks, her eyes half lidded.

Your body tenses and you freeze for a bit before shaking your head. "Nothing that I know of—" You clear your throat and pass another plate to Madison who greedily digs in. "—I'll shower first then you next then we get ready for class and go, you good with that?"

Quinn pouts. "But I didn't bring my stuff."

"We'll pass by your dorm on the way." You mumble, and Quinn flashes a grateful smile to you.

Leaning close to Madison, you briefly hear her say _"Brittany's a great friend."_ Before you're inside your room again.

* * *

"Do I look horrible?" You face Quinn and smile at her where she hides her eyes behind black shades she borrowed from Madison.

"Nah, you look fine—honestly."

She smacks your arm as you walk up to the elevator. "I don't believe you—you're too nice."

You chuckle lightly in reply when before you enter devil's nest, she tugs on your shirt and you turn to her with a questioning expression. She licks her lips and smiles.

"By the way, my family holds this annual New Year's Eve party and fortunately, I'm inviting you and your roommate to come. So save the date!" She hums, and you grin excitedly, avoiding the staring daggers from behind you, probably from brown eyes. But you see, Quinn isn't just popular in school, no, her family, the Fabray, holds one of the most expensive lingerie line, coming 2nd after Victoria Secret. Thus, getting an early invite from the daughter herself is priceless. And it's just August!

"Cool, thanks Q." You slip the nickname, taking the seat beside hers, not noticing an amused smile on her blonde friend's lips.

Your friendly trance is broken as Professor Lopez's heels noisily clack along the wooden floors.

Subtly, you peek through your long eyelashes and watch as she brushes her dark brown hair down and exhales. She has shades on, and weirdly, you grin at her expression.

"Who has the answer to page 342?" She screams, quite loudly, causing a lot of the students to flinch in their seats. You couldn't help but giggle.

Someone raises his hand and it seems to make Santana snap.

"What the fuck did I say about raising hands?"

The poor man puts it down when a girl says. "It's a waste of time, just spit it out."

Santana points to the woman, frowning still. "B." She mutters, it was so low and quiet you'd think no one heard but ever since she's been grading you with A's and A+'s, you've noticed them.

"So will someone please—"

"—There is no page 342."

Santana stops walking and whips her head to the sound of that voice. "What?" She hisses.

Quinn, who you thought fell asleep, says, "It was page 203."

Grabbing her folder and stifling through the pages, Santana clucks her tongue. "Right. Page 342 is today's—alright somebody just step down and show me the answer in the board, first one to finish gets bonus points."

Almost immediately, a bunch of people rush down the steps and attack the green board. Amidst the chaos, you write down some notes when something lands something on your table. You look up and narrow your eyes on the Latina professor. She leans forward and smirks, tapping the file she left for you.

"Your curriculum." She says, and you desperately want to see her eyes. "Wasn't able to give it to you the 1st day."

You nod your head, sliding it close to you. "Thanks." You manage to reply. She stays for a while, and opens her mouth to say something else when one student screams done and a chorus of groans is heard throughout the room.

Humming, Santana leaves you and pushes students away from her.

"What's that?" Quinn asks, leaning close to you.

You smile softly. "Curriculum." You answer her shortly.

She raises an eyebrow. "Um, you get that online." She says as a matter of fact.

"What?"

You snap the folder open and is shocked when you see just a small post it stuck inside. Quinn gets closer and laughs.

"Well, what about that?"

That's the thing.

The post it is empty.


End file.
